


Jack Frost Goes to the Moon

by Luthen



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: And Aster swears a bit, Angst, Asking the wrong questions, Assumptions, But Manny doesn't get it, Gen, Issues noted in end notes, Jack's a little sarcastic, Miscommunication, Or a possible story behind, The Easter Blizzard of '68, being ignored and broken, getting in the way, rocket science - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthen/pseuds/Luthen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack wants answers from the Moon. And he's got nothing to loose in getting them. When he sees an opportunity with the Apollo space mission, he takes it.</p>
<p>In 1968, Apollo 6 launched on April 4th. That year, Easter Sunday was April 14th.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take Off

You weren’t crazy if you knew you were crazy. That’s how the saying went, right? At least Jack thought so.

And he what he was doing was definitely crazy.

He was going to stow away on a rocket to the Moon.

Jack hadn’t been aware of the “Space Race” when it started. He didn’t have a television, or get a paper delivery. Most of the time the snow he brought destroyed them anyway. But he’d watched the children pretending to be astronauts and eventually learnt what that meant. Jack had known immediately he needed to become an astronaut.

Jack wanted answers from the voice that had given him a name. He was so desperate for answers he was going to probably get himself killed. He wasn’t even sure the Man in the Moon was a real person, spirit, whatever. Jack had only heard its voice that first night he rose from the lake.

From what Jack had learnt eavesdropping on people, even they didn’t think there was an actual _Man_ in the Moon. Certainly not like humans – children at least – thought Santa was real. Just that if you squinted your eyes and tilted your head you could see a face in the craters. And he was, even if Jack had only met his yeti guards.

There was a big chance he was going to get to the big rock to find no one. But there was also a chance he might be able to talk to the one who made him from that lake.

Still he was crazy. Why else would a winter spirit be in Florida in April? Jack _hated_ it. It was too warm and muggy, and he just felt _sleepy_. Even the Wind wasn’t much use to him. She wanted to whisk him away to the cold arctic, where he belonged. She couldn’t understand that Jack needed this.

So here Jack was perched atop the ridiculously tall hanger building waiting for the big rocket to come out. He’d been eavesdropping, spying for when the next rocket was going up. It was annoying, they wanted perfect weather. The kind of perfect that Jack didn’t craft. He’d spent the last month hanging around the base just waiting.

Jack knew this wasn’t going to be _the_ Moon mission. Just a test flight. From what he’d overheard the Moon wasn’t going to be in the right spot for months. By then it would be high summer. If spring here was this awful he couldn’t stay that long.

He was no astrophysicist, but he knew how to hit a moving target. Jack had a plan. An insane plan. He was going to ride the rocket as high as he could, and then blast himself off it.

Jack had mentioned he knew he was crazy, right?

In the early hours of the morning Jack startled awake. There was a rumbling felt more through his bones than his ears. The doors were opening. The rocket was coming out!

…

Really freakin’ slowly.

It took three hours for the lumbering machine to reach ground zero. Jack was bored out of his skull. At least he had time to plan how he was going to hold on. He would have to ice himself to the rocket. He might not have to breathe but he’d never gone on a rocket ride before.

Jack spent three hours perched on a crossbeam above the roof of the command capsule, swinging his legs. He couldn’t start icing things before people finished doing checks. Or they’d call the launch off.

The few more hours it took before lift-off felt longer to Jack than the quarter millennia he’d been frosting the world. But eventually the engineers had finished all their checks and run away. It was show time!

Jack slipped off his perch and hugged the cockpit. Spreadeagle he clung limpet-like, not sure what to do with his crook. Leaving it behind was simply not an option. On the same level of unacceptableness as not going to the Moon. After shifting a few times he found the only reasonable place for it was lying flat down the cone from point to base, under his armpit.

Another eternity passed and a tinny, warped speaker announced T-minus thirty minutes. T-minus twenty. T-minus ten. Five. T-minus sixty seconds. Thirty. Fifteen. T-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five (a shudder as pilot engines ignited), four, three, two, one!

Jack’s world came unstuck. Everything was shaking. The weight of gravity pressing down, harder and harder.

Jack breathed deep and exhaled; thinking of cold, of unyielding, of enduring, of _ice_. His trademark touch of frost formed, spreading from his hands and feet. The tropical air was heavy with water, which he wrapped himself in. Jack normally dealt in frost and soft snow. Building solid ice was different. His most meaningful touchstone was his lake. It faithfully kept generations of children safe. If his impromptu ice-anchoring was a half as good he’d be fine. Ice spread beyond Jack’s hands over his arms and torso. It spread off his shoulders, down his cloak using its surface area to affix him more surely.

The Wind had realised what was happening. She found Jack and tried to peel him off. Fortunately for Jack it was the cold Wind who cared for him, so her heart wasn’t in it. Plus as the rocket picked up speed it was punching through her faster and faster. Soon too powerfully for her to resist. Jack thought he heard a last plea to see sense, before the wind fell silent.

Jack watched in awe as the curve of the Earth was growing more pronounced. He’d travelled the jet streams before but this was so much more. He wasn’t sure, more beautiful? More confronting? More inspiring? All of the above?

The trip certainly was far from comfortable. He may not have to breathe but Jack’s lungs burned as the emptiness of space entered them. Despite what he’d heard about the coldness of space Jack was feeling hot. No clouds shielded him from the sun that engulfed him. He couldn’t let the ice melt, so he was forced to take all that light and heat into himself.

Worse still, something Jack had never really been aware of was dropping away. The world was losing colour, and a maw of emptiness consuming something inside. There was a hole in him, which he’d never known the magic wonder of the Earth filled.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all.

It was decision time. The rocket had reached has high as it was going to get. He could just stick to it, ride it back down to Earth. Give up on this ridiculous plan.

Or he could make his leap of faith. The Moon was right there. Glowing in the black, beckoning him. He could get the answers he so desperately wanted. Put in that light he’d made his choice already.

Jack’s experience ignoring gravity served him well right now. He had no fear of slipping up and hurtling into oblivion. He broke the ice binding him and lazily rolled into a crouch ready to jump. Jack understood the idea behind what he needed to do. He’d had a lot of fun re-enacting the fire extinguisher and wheelie chair game with his staff.

Jack tracked the Moon for a few heartbeats, lining up the perfect shot. Another heartbeat to settle himself and he exploded.

The same moment he pushed off with his legs, Jack channelled a massive burst of magic through his staff. It erupted behind him, boosting him forward even harder than the rocket had pushed.

Jack passed out as the emptiness consumed him.


	2. Trans-Lunar Injection

Jack woke terribly disorientated. He was weighed down by smoothness he’d never experienced, while he simultaneously felt lighter than ever. What should have been a gentle push upright had him somersaulting face first into the quilt he was trying to escape.

Wait, quilt? How had he ended up in a bed? Glancing around Jack didn’t see any clues. Just lavish decor of smooth, curving details in golds, silvers, and whites. Somehow what seemed like it should be a warm and welcoming atmosphere, felt stale and lonely.

Jack didn’t sleep often, so he could be forgiven for his slow awakening. It took him a couple of minutes of staring at the room, willing answers out of thin air, before he worried about his own safety. Jack almost sprained his neck frantically darting his attention around the room in search of his staff. And then felt monumentally stupid when he discovered it leaning against the bedside table.

Getting out of the bed was a repeat performance of his earlier gracelessness. Jack had forgotten the weaker gravity, which proved he was on the Moon. Or not on Earth at least. Small consolation for face planting in musty carpet.

Jack stood up with a caution he hadn’t displayed in centuries. Normally he just threw himself around, confident in his balance and indestructability. Here, well he didn’t want to hit the ceiling or something.

When he grasped his staff it frosted over like usual. However it felt different. The spring of magic pooling his chest was smaller, thinner, lesser somehow. Jack didn’t feel weaker than usual, though. Just like he was full of a blander mix of magic. It was light and cold like normal. But the light was soft and second-hand. The cold was the cold of complete lack of insulation, no heat stored anywhere – not of places never fully warmed.

Three elements were starkly missing. Wind and water were absent. Jack’s constant companions were thousands of miles away. The last missing element wasn’t something that Jack had much control over and hadn’t even realised he sensed it: life. The sleeping plants and animals, the children playing, all of that.

Jack hugged his staff close, terribly lonely again. Whoever lived in this place better give him some answers. And maybe a ride home.

Now that he had his weapon at hand, Jack noticed the odd swishing he made as he moved. Looking down he saw that his trusty clothes were gone. Replaced by some metallic silky pyjama monstrosities. There were socks on his feet, even! No wonder his balance had been destroyed.

Disgusted, Jack ripped the horrid foot suckers off.

Only his stunted sense of modesty stopped him from doing the same with the pyjamas. This fabric was useless, he doubted it would last a few hours of his life. He wanted his fawn skin pants and cloak.

Jack searched for his clothes but couldn’t find them anywhere in the room. At least he was getting the hang of not bouncing too much in the low gravity. If it wasn’t in the bedroom it had to be outside it. So Jack had three doors to choose from.

A huge gaudy set of double doors, or two other smaller but still large doors. Jack guessed the double doors led to places he didn’t want to be wandering in someone else’s pyjamas. One of the single doors it was. We’ll didn’t have any coins to flip, so Jack started chanting to himself, moving his pointing finger from one door to another.

“Eenie, meenie, miney, moe,  
Catch a tigger by the toe,  
If he hollers, let him go,  
Eenie, meenie, miney, moe!

“Door on the left it is,” announced Jack in a mock game show host voice.

The door opened to an opulent bathroom. Jack scrunched his nose in distaste. He really didn’t see the point of all the gold and marble. His lake and the occasional natural spring was good enough for him. After confirming his clothes weren’t there, Jack exited the gaudy en suite.

The other door revealed a room full of empty clothes rails and drawers. Well, not quite empty. All little ways in, Jack’s cloak and pants hung, the only things there. Eager to be back in his familiar outfit, Jack kicked the door shut behind him and bounced over to his stuff. Unfortunately in his excitement, Jack forgot about the reduced gravity and careened into the ceiling.

“Ow,” whined Jack rubbing his head as he floated back down. He hadn’t hurt himself, but the surprise collision had stung.

Sulking a little, Jack changed out of the silk pyjamas into his normal, hardy, clothes. Unsure what to do with the pyjamas Jack dithered for a bit before hiding them in the most out of the way drawer in the room. In his defence, he’d never been inside a house before.

Armoured in his real clothes, Jack approached the double doors warily. Now that he was on the Moon, without any little distractions, Jack was growing nervous about how his meeting would go. He hardly knew what to expect of the Man in the Moon. Sure, the moonlight had made him feel safe when he was born, but he hadn’t felt anything but frustration with the Moon for a long time now.

Frustration because he wanted answers. Answers he wasn’t going to get if he didn’t open this door.

Either the door was telepathic or Fate liked messing with him. Because before Jack could turn decision into action, the doors swung open.

Revealing a corridor curving out of sight, decorated just as lavishly as the bedroom behind him. However, right in front of Jack was a metal man. Round and bronzy, with a light glowing in his (?) chest.

“Guest, you are awake. Good. The Tsar will see you.”

The bronze-man’s voice was kind of dull and very monotone. Without waiting for a response, the machine turned and started walking away from Jack.

Jack took a moment to process this development, before he was racing after the metal man. Attention divided between asking questions – all of which where answered with “The Tsar will explain” – and looking out the portholes at the stars.

Jack was curious about the various hallways and doors they passed but he didn’t think leaving his guide would be a good idea. Especially if the Tsar was the Man in the Moon he’d come to see.

Their walk ended before an even more massive set of doors. Easily twice Jack’s height, and covered in carvings of stars and pictures of creatures Jack had never heard of.

“The Tsar will see you now.”


	3. Moonwalk

Jack wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see. A throne room? That the Man in the Moon, was the Machine in the Moon? Just a bunch of moonlight? The command bridge of a ship? A wizard’s workshop? Well he didn’t see any of that.

Maybe the last one, what he saw was odd enough. The room was full of balloons, and more machine men carrying them to and fro. Across the room, on a raised platform stood a man. He was currently doing something with a big old fashioned ear horn, a balloon, and a big mirror thing.

Jack found himself crossing the room half under his own power, half being pulled along by the tide of metal people. He saw a few mice, bigger than he’d ever seen. But they were wearing sailor hats, and seemed to be helping, so they probably weren’t pests. It was a novel experience, being in a crush of people who actually could touch him. Jack wasn’t sure he liked it.

Thankfully there was a little space to breathe next to the Man’s stage. Jack had an uninterrupted chance to examine the Man while he continued to do whatever he was doing with the balloons. If Jack had to summarise him in one word it would be round, or maybe cream. He really looked like a cheerful human-version of the Moon. Dressed up kind of formally, bald except for one (reduced) gravity defying curl of white hair.

“Oh, Jack! I did not notice you there, come up, come up.”

Still confused, Jack obeyed. If this was the Man in the Moon, the same Man in the Moon that many spirits just about worshipped, shouldn’t he acting a bit more superior? Not like an absentminded older relative – not that Jack had ever had any relatives.

“You have come a long way.”

“Yeah, well,” drawled Jack, quickly falling back into proven sarcastic snark, “you’re the one who built you home on the _Moon_.”

The Man in the Moon gave Jack a curious look at that, like he didn’t know what to do with sarcasm. The Man frowned before speaking.

“My parents built this ship before I was born.”

“Okay, whatever you say. Hey what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you “The Man in the Moon”.”

“Tsar Lunar the Twelth, though you may call what you wish.”

“Of course.” Jack _Frost_ was hardly one to talk about unsubtle spirit names. “It’s nice to meet you, Tsar. But I didn’t ice myself to an exploding metal tube just for small talk. I have some questions.”

“Yes, I cannot believe you did that. If one of my lunar moths had not caught you, we might have lost you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack waved off the concern, he doubted anyone would’ve noticed his absence. “I want to know: why did you pull me out of my lake?”

“Why?” Lunar seemed genuinely confused, which annoyed Jack more than a little, “To do what you’ve been doing. Making children happy.”

“That can’t be it!” Jack snapped, if it was that it he wouldn’t be invisible would he? “Because I’ve tried _everything_ and no one ever sees me.”

Lunar just stared at Jack, who felt more and more like a patient with a curious medical problem. Or a car broken down for no obvious reason. Something that wasn’t acting the way it should.

Just as Jack was about to plead for guidance again, Lunar spoke, “I do not understand. Why would people not see you when you reveal yourself?”

“That’s what I want to know. They walk straight through me.”

“But I have seen the children play with you.”

Jack gave a humourless huff of a laugh, “No they don’t. Just because I’m supplying ammo and running around doesn’t mean they’re playing with me.”

“Do people not talk about what you did?”

“No, not really. They say I’m just an expression. _Don’t forget your hat, you don’t want Jack Frost nipping at your nose_ ,” said Jack in a passable imitation of an overprotective mother, then continued more to himself, “I think that means biting, and I’ve never bitten anyone.”

“This is troubling,” Lunar placed the ear horn on some sort of stand and bounced off the platform, “Follow me. I will see what I have in the library.”

Jack followed the Man in the Moon. In not quite so carefree a manner. Libraries and Jack had a rocky relationship. He liked them in theory – books and knowledge, stories and learning. However in practise he and books didn’t get along. He frosted them when he touched them, and it’s not like he could get a library card anyway. The fact that books would be reshelved _while he was reading them_ really annoyed him.

“You have been asleep for almost a phase! Leaving the Earth’s magic field was a shock to your system.”

Jack pulled his attention back to the Tsar who was talking as he bounced along.

“How long?” Jack asked, he’d leave the issue of _magic fields_ alone. He wasn’t a guy to worry about theory. He just knew (now) that outer space equal hungry emptiness.

“Ah, six or seven days? It is hard to tell from here.”

Okay, that was different. Jack didn’t really sleep, just occasionally hibernate if he used too much magic. He’d only ever knocked himself out for three days before. New personal record!

“I hope you stay a while. I do so rarely get visitors.”

“Well, you’re not the easiest to visit,” Jack pointed out, again. “Would it hurt that much to come down to Earth, or make a portal or something?”

“And risk Pitch reaching my ship? No.”

“Who?”

“I believe you might know him better as the Boogeyman.”

“I thought the Big Four put him away.”

The rotund man looked pained, and Jack presumed it was the thoughts of the Boogeyman. Jack didn’t quite get it, but then it was before his time. He was American colonial and later, not back in the Dark Ages.

“Yes my Guardians did, but he will be back. He cannot be imprisoned forever.”

“That’s nice, well not nice, but whatever! Nothing to do with me.” Yeah, Jack knew he was being selfish, but two centuries without getting anything is enough to make a boy want something for himself. “Any ideas on getting me seen?”

“I am sure I will find something in my library,” Lunar assured Jack, gesturing to the doors they were approaching.

At their approach a couple of the metal men opened the doors. The Tsar’s library was _enormous_. Jack thought a good portion of Burgess could be lost in there easily. Bookshelves two or three stories high disappeared into the distance.

Jack followed Lunar, slack jawed as the Man in the Moon pointed out the various sections they passed. From history to alchemy to botany to insect-linguistics to a bunch of random topics that Jack didn’t quite get. Either what they meant or why they would have shelves upon shelves dedicated to them.

Eventually Lunar turned right and headed down a section he called “Spiritual Magicks”. Jack just followed along, as they emerged into a small reading area, with a few desks and a couple of those giant mice waiting.

“Well, Jack,” said Lunar, “I am going to start looking into your issue. I have some suspicions but I will need to check them. You can stay with me, or the Moonmice will show you anything you like.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

Jack’s decision didn’t last very long. Turns out all of Lunar’s magic books were written in some alien language. A bunch of stars, joined by circles and lines, with no words, sentences or paragraphs that Jack could identify. Each page looked less like lines of writing and more like a snapshot of the night sky.

Whatever it was, Lunar was able to read it. Soon the Man in the Moon was engrossed, and muttering to himself.

“This isn’t right… he hasn’t faded… people must believe…”

Jack tried asking him questions when the Man’s mumbling caught his curiosity, but he never got a real answer.

“It’s not time yet for him.”

“Time for what?” Jack asked, maybe Lunar was going to reveal why he’d created Jack.

“He is young…,” Lunar was so deep in thought he answered without breaking monologue, “he should still be a child…”

Eventually Jack got fed up with the not-conversation, and asked the moonmice to show him around. The library amused him for a while, the books were pretty, even if he couldn’t read them. The moonmice even got out a couple of picture books and read to him. Jack could tell they were for children, the constellations were simpler and separated. He didn’t mind, the stories of the Golden Age were pretty awesome.

There were only so many books though, and Jack was curious about the rest of the palace on the Moon. The moonmice took Jack to the observatory where he saw the Earth and the stars magnified, to the kitchens where he had the best food in his life, to the Tsar’s old playrooms where Jack played with the moonmice.

Jack wasn’t sure how many hours later they were called back to the Library by one of moonbots (as the moonmice called them). But he was met by an apologetic Tsar. Surrounded by books and scrolls, Lunar didn’t look like he had news Jack wanted to hear.

“Ah, Jack, I think I know why you cannot be seen.”

That got Jack’s attention. He bounced over – forgetting the reduced gravity again – and hopped onto a table. Jack had never been to school and had to sit immersed in what a teacher said. But he would try to concentrate.

“I am sorry, but I think it might be my fault.”

“Well, that’s a surprise.”

“It is.” Yeah, sarcasm was lost on this guy. “When my Guardians shifted the Veil, I did not realise what effect it would have on you.”

“What veil?”

“The Veil between life and death, between the spirits and mortals.”

Jack swallowed, that didn’t sound like an easy task. Or an entirely sane one.

“When I gifted you magic, I did not realise I would hide you from mortal sight. I had planned for you to settle and watch over your home.”

“Burgess?”

Lunar almost smiled, “Yes, and the area around it.” He sobered again, “I am very sorry, because of the Veil, you cannot be seen by people who don’t believe in you.”

“So, no one,” Jack summarised, “Great, fat lot of help you’ve been.”

“Of course. Anything else I can do for you Jack?”

Jack stared, face contorted into disbelief. Lunar really didn’t understand sarcasm at all. Like it was an alien concept to him. Though he lived on the Moon, did that make Lunar an alien?

“No. I don’t think there is.”

Jack was being perfectly sincere. He hadn’t known what to expect of the Man in the Moon, and he still couldn’t tell if he was playing the needlessly cryptic mentor character or just was completely out of touch. Apparently Jack was doing whatever Lunar had made him to do. And that didn’t include being seen.

“I am sorry Jack. I had hoped for you to build a life as a spirit before I called you.”

“Called me?”

The notion frankly half amused, half angered Jack. The Tsar had planned to ring him up at some point after who knows how long? Just to ask him for something.

The Man in the Moon actually bounced out of his seat, and clapped happily, nearly shouting, “To be a Guardian!”

“What.”

“To be a Guardian of Childhood,” repeated Lunar, his bouncing settling down. Was Jack meant to be excited?

“You want me,” Jack said, pointing at himself, as if talking to a rock, “The kid who’s been trying to be seen all his life. To hide away. And only come out once a year. To bribe kids. But never play with them? Not happening.”

“No. To protect them.”

“Which is going to be mighty difficult when I’m invisible.”

“I will give you a message to take to them. Asking them to help you.”

Lunar beckoned over a moonbot who returned with some paper and a pen. The Tsar started writing. When Jack looked over his shoulder, he saw that it wasn’t any Earth language, but more of that star map stuff. Presumably the Guardians had a dictionary or something. The Tsar rolled it up and slipped it in a glass tube.

He offered it Jack, saying, “Take this to North, Sanderson, or Aster, and they shall help you. I do not think Toothiana reads Astral.”

Jack took the tube and lacking anywhere else, slipped it in his shirt.

“Thanks. I’ll just be going then,” Jack declared, “would you ask one of your moonbots to show me out?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll have one of my lunar moths carry you over.”

Jack was then shocked when the Man pulled him into a hug. His first hug. It was kind of nice.

“Jack, I am so sorry. I wish you the best.”

Then before Jack could recover or reply, the Tsar bounced away. Waving a moonbot over to escort Jack out.

Jack kind of expected Lunar to ask him to stay longer. The guy had seemed kinda lonely. Jack however, he needed to find somewhere uninhabited and consider things. Then he’d go see if one of the Big Four would see him. Who knows, maybe with a message, Phil will let him into the North Pole.

Jack was touched by his farewell committee, waiting at the door to where the moths lived. The various moonmice he’d played with along with a couple of moonbots. It wasn’t a large group but it was nice.

After hugs and farewells were exchanged, Jack was sent through to the moths. They were awesome. Bigger than a man, Jack knew they couldn’t easily carry him, if not four of him. Light blue wings and fluffy everything else, they eyed him curiously.

“Uh, hi. I was hoping for a lift back to Earth?”

Jack hadn’t meant to lift his voice at the end into a question, but he wasn’t used to talking to a bunch of people listening to him. And he didn’t doubt the moths understood him. After a bit of discussion – mostly through wings flapping and antennae waving – a moth glided down to Jack. It landed with its back to him, and Jack took the invitation to climb up between its wings.

It took off before he had time to properly settle in for another long flight. So Jack was holding on to the fur of its head, hoping for the best. It didn’t seem to mind.

The moth was fast. Soon the Moon was shrinking and that emptiness inside him growing. Jack might’ve warned the moth, had he had any air, but he couldn’t so he slipping into blackness. Again.


	4. Re-entry

Jack woke from that hungry blackness to see the Earth taking up most of his vision. He was falling. And he was definitely falling faster than he thought he was. There was no wind, no clouds to measure his speed. But Jack knew the Earth was massive, already he had to turn his head to see its edge, and the surface was getting bigger.

He couldn’t breathe, he hadn’t hit the atmosphere yet, but Jack could feel the Earth’s magic again. It was faint, though growing stronger. After the bland feeling of the Moon’s magic, the Earth’s vibrant mixture was almost too rich for Jack. But being reintroduced to it, helped him to sense all the subtleties he’d missed in the past.

It was amazing. Jack could feel the cool currents of the oceans, the frigid poles, the wind herding clouds. Behind that he could hear the memories of ice ages long before his time. He could feel how thin that layer of water and air was, wrapped around the Earth’s mass.

It was soft, but Jack could hear faintly the song of all the life in that thin layer. The joy and freedom and all matter of positive emotions. And the shadowy hurt that he felt the urge to eradicate.

Just as the magic was about to drown out all his other senses, Jack hit the atmosphere. Hit was too strong a word for it. There wasn’t a defined boundary, not like the surface of the sea. It was still wispy, far too thin to hold him up, or even sustain the Wind. However, it was getting hot.

Much hotter than Jack was comfortable with.

Really hot.

Was his cloak on fire?

Yes. Yes it was.

The air was cold but dry, nevertheless Jack pulled as much water around him as he could. Coating himself in a layer of ice. He then curled up in a ball instinctively. Perhaps diving stretched out would be better, but then he’d be hit the burning air feet first or face first. Neither option appealed.

His staff was being awkward again, but it was easy enough to keep it frosted. It was his conduit. His cloak was largely beyond him though. Jack imagined he could hear it ripping and burning over the buffeting of the wind.

The air was getting thicker. Which was good because there was more water for him to shield himself with. But also bad, since more air meant more friction, so more heat.

By the time Jack had comfortably protected himself, he was encased in a foot thick ball of ice as wide as his staff. Good thing he didn’t need to breath. At least there was a little air in his improvised re-entry pod so he could pretend. The false safety gave Jack enough peace of mind to remember the human’s designs for re-entry. He couldn’t say he understood it, but shifting his ice ball into an ice cone didn’t reduce the melting.

Jack had _no idea_ where he was going. He couldn’t see through the ice well enough. He knew he wasn’t just falling down, but also sideways. Making it impossible to tell predict where he was going to land.

Despite being a creature of snow and frost, Jack didn’t want to crash to earth a huge hailstone. Either he’d break, or he’d break something. And a seven foot wide ball of ice was going to do a _lot_ of damage. Jack hoped he hadn’t waited too long to do this.

He shattered the ice.

Chaos. That was the only word for it. The Wind screamed both joy at reuniting and rage at what he’d done. Jack yelled right back at it.

“Wind! Nice to be back! I’m sorry! But please! Don’t let me crash!”

The Wind tried, Jack would attest to that. But he just had too much speed, he was still falling faster than the speed of sound. It did manage to slow him.

Enough that crashing into the mountains of Pennsylvania was only amazingly painful. Rather than seriously injuring. Like limb loss territory. As he lay there staring up at the storm clouds, Jack suspected he’d broke a few bones anyway.

At least he’d wouldn’t be awake to feel the pain. The Earth’s magic rushing into him to refill what he’d spent trying not to splatter himself. Jack knew he was headed for a magic exhaustion coma. He wouldn’t be able to tell how long, since he didn’t know what day it was.

Blackness.

It was the night of Friday the 12th.


	5. Aftermath

Jack woke knowing something was wrong. His magic was refilled but his connection to it was shrieking at him. Jack might bring unforecast snow all over the place, but he knew not to go too far. He’d heard about the hurricane butterflies and didn’t want to do that.

Exhuming himself from the snowdrift he’d landed in, Jack discovered he’d been a butterfly. There was a blizzard. One of the worst Jack had experienced. The moment he was more than a third unburied the winds sucked him up into the sky.

It was pitch black. Even though Jack could feel that all around him was white snow. He stretched out his senses hoping it was just localised over where he’d been recovering.

It wasn’t. All of New England was besieged. Jack couldn’t feel any further, but the blizzard was still strong at the edge of his range. It probably had all the Eastern seaboard, and no doubt went a long way inland.

Jack immediately set to work. He’d calmed blizzards before, but nothing on this scale. And never been the cause before. He knew just what effect a storm like this would have. _Don’t think about it_.

The tempest fought his efforts, but Jack was determined. Slowly, baby step by baby step, Jack started to eke away the storm’s power.

He had maybe got the once in five century year blizzard down to a one in two level when he was knocked out of the sky.

“What the bloody hell is this?”

“A blizzard,” Jack snapped, “what you think it is?”

Jack leapt back into the air. Or he would have, had not a furry hand grabbed him by the ankle.

“And why are ya making a blizzard on Easter?”

“I’m _not_. I was unmaking it.”

“Yeah, right. This storm ain’t natural, and you’re the only winter spirit around. So it’s your fault. You ruined Easter.”

“Easter!?” exclaimed Jack, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m the Easter Bunny.”

Jack actually stopped trying to escape and looked down at the snow crusted fuzzball grounding him. Now that he was looking, Jack could see what might be bunny ears – covered in snow. He hadn’t expected the Australian accent.

“I’ve got a message from the Man in the Moon for you, but first I have to deal with this blizzard.”

That seemed to shock the Bunny. But rather than letting Jack go he just tightened his grip on Jack’s ankle.

“Don’t lie. I know you, Jack Frost. You’re nothing, why would Lunar send you a message?”

“Because I went and visited him.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t have time for this. I need to salvage my holiday. You,” he stressed by pulling down Jack to stare him in the eye, “get rid of this storm. And don’t come near Easter again.”

Not waiting for a response, the Bunny threw Jack back into the blizzard.

Jack got back to work. Setting aside the issue of the Easter Bunny for later. If that was the kind of spirit that made a Guardian, Jack was doubly certain he didn’t want to be one.

The storm consumed Jack. He lost himself in wrestling it back to seasonable rug up weather from apocalyptic dress-rehearsal. Days later, he really needed to look at a calendar at some point, Jack drifted down to his lake. It was still snowing, but softly now.

Jack was exhausted but had enough energy to choose a place to crash. He’d hole up in the hollow between the roots of his favourite tree. He went to wrap himself in his cloak and made a terrible discovery.

It was in tatters. Between re-entry burning and the shredding winds of the blizzard it had been destroyed. Jack stared blankly at it. It had always been with him, it had as much sentimental value as his staff.

Jack curled up in his hollow, rolling the remains of his cloak into a makeshift pillow. He pulled out the message tube, the tangible offer of help, needed to check it was okay.

It wasn’t. The glass had cracked, or the seal broken, didn’t matter. Jack could see the frost and melt water in the tube, destroying the message. Frantic, he pulled it out, but that only served as the death stroke for the star chart. Tearing it in two.

Filled with rage, Jack threw the tube as hard as he could. He ignored the tinkle of breaking glass and curled up.

If the Big Four were like the Easter Bunny, he didn’t want to meet them anyway. He’d just continue as he had been.

**Author's Note:**

> Known issues:
> 
> Writers have no sense of scale. Well I looked up Earth and Moon data, and basically decided to ignore it. Just remember, believe believe believe and you can too.
> 
> Apollo 6 was not the most logical mission for Jack to stowaway on. It wasn't planned to go anywhere near the moon. Just to ~22,000km about the border between low and medium Earth orbit. About a 20th of the way to the Moon. Plus if he'd come back next winter Apollo 8 launched in December and made Lunar orbit. However, all that was after Easter '68.


End file.
